


Romans 14:11

by howlinglight



Series: Epistle to the Romans [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: God Complex, Jealousy, M/M, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, [dennis voice] Full Penetration, set between s8 & s9, this isn't really a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlinglight/pseuds/howlinglight
Summary: Mac is staring wide eyed at Dennis who's bleeding feral energy from every pore. Feeling lost at sea he says, barely above a whisper, "What are you talking about?""I think you need something new to worship, Mac."Again, Dennis says "Let me show you."Mac has really been pushing the Catholic thing lately. Dennis gets jealous of God.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i did hours of bible study while writing this, and obviously i learned nothing because i kept writing anyway.  
> I haven't written anything this graphic in.... my entire life? This was originally going to be two different fics from either characters perspective that I ended up mashing together. I spent over three weeks writing and rewriting the whole thing and had to stop with it cause it was driving me insane. I hope it's not too obvious & is enjoyable anyway

_"Welcome anyone who is weak in faith, but not for disputes over opinions. One person believes that one may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables..."_

_Mac picks the driest shit sometimes._

Dennis tries to listen, but it's a short lived effort. And really, he can't help it. He drifts as Mac reads. 

Spaces in. 

_"...for if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s..."_

Spaces out. 

Then Mac takes a deep breath and it catches Dennis' attention. There's a new life to his voice, an excitement, as he continues. 

" _'As surely as I live,’ says the Lord,_ " He's speaking in the voice of God now, puffs his chest out as he reads. " _every knee will bow before me; every tongue shall give praise to God._ ” 

"Alright," Dennis cuts in, with a sly grin. "That's nice. That's almost _erotic._ " 

Mac's face turn's pink and he hold's the bible higher to cover it. "I told you, don't interrupt." 

Dennis smirks to himself, leans back. This wouldn't be so bad if it were all like that- God's big voice booming down from the clouds all _kneel before me, be my servant- that kind of shit_. But Mac keeps droning on in the background. 

_"...blessed is the one who does not condemn himself for what he approves, but whoever has doubts is condemned if he eats, because this is not from faith; for whatever is not from faith is sin..."_

All the enthusiasm drains from Dennis, once again. He doesn’t even realise Mac’s at the end until he shuts the book with a snap. Dennis blinks himself back to life as Mac puts the book down between them. 

"So,” he says, smiling brightly. “Do you get it?" 

_No_. Dennis rolls his eyes and waves a noncommittal hand. “I guess,” he says. 

It takes a second for the smile to drop from Mac’s face, then he sighs. "It was in the first line, dude. _'Welcome anyone who is weak in faith'_? That's why it's like, my duty to educate you." 

"It sounded," says Dennis "like it was about letting people who don't believe in God starve to death." 

Mac shakes his head. "You don't get it," he says, disappointed 

"I think _you_ don't get it." 

Mac rolls his eyes. “Uh, I think I understand the bible, _Dennis._ ” 

It’s the way Mac says his name that pushes him past his limit. He stands up, and says "Alright. Now that that’s over," then makes a beeline for the fridge. 

Mac calls his name in that voice Dennis hates but he doesn't respond. He pulls out a beer, and without another word he walks into his own room, patting Mac on the shoulder on his way by. Mac watches him go, pointlessly calling his name again. Mac picks the bible back up, runs a hand over it and sighs, before going to his own room, thinking _next time._ Next time he will find something better 

___________________

.

In the comfortable silence of his bedroom Dennis puts the beer can on top of his dresser and takes a deep breath. _Tired_ is the only word he's thinking, _so goddamn tired_. Ever since that mockery of a trial, Mac has been obsessed with showing him the Light. The harder he tries- and the harder he fails- the more determined he becomes. 

Dennis lifts his drink to his mouth- but something sticks to it, clinging to the condensation at the bottom of the can, for just a moment as he lifts it to his mouth. He catches it before it can flutter to the floor and looks it over as he takes a long drink. 

It's a drawing printed on paper that's only a little thicker than usual, featuring an angel in the middle of a forest, appearing to a little girl. _Or maybe a little boy?_ They all look and dress the same in these kinds of illustrations- sexless, shapeless, smiling stupidly at nothing. He turns it over to read the back- _To St Raphael The Archangel._ Dennis vaguely remembers finding this once before. It had been on his pillow that time, and he hadn't read past the title then, just rolled his eyes and put it somewhere else. 

The bible readings are one thing, but all this biblical shit Mac has been populating their home with? These are going to drive him insane. 

"They're important religious symbols," Mac would insist, whenever Dennis complains. 

And _it's cute_ Dennis would think, _how much he can care about something so foolish._ But regardless, "It's not my religion," he would say. "and I don't want to see it. So." _Get rid of it._ But Mac is never the one to get rid of them. 

Dennis looks over the prayer card now, and it's as annoying as he expects. 

_Glorious Archangel Saint Raphael, great prince of the heavenly court, you are illustrious for your gifts of wisdom and grace..._

_Bullshit._ All these guys are glorious and wise and graceful and all that shit- but for what? _What do these dusty old assholes have to keep Mac singing their praises?_ Which biblical quality has Dennis Reynolds not yet mastered? 

He chugs his beer, stares at the card for a long time 

_...I beg you assist me in all my needs... ...you are the medicine of God... ...heal my soul... ...my body..._

At a passing glance it could almost be sensual. Dennis doesn't mind those parts so much, but then they have to go and ruin it, invoking _the great grace of purity_ and all that shit. _What a waste._

_If you're going to talk about letting some almighty power into your body,_ he muses, _you should really mean it._

Once he feels calmer, or at least that much closer to drunk, he leans against his door, listening. He just wants to take a piss. Then maybe sit on the couch, watch a movie. _Not_ talk about God. Still listening, he hears dead silence in the living room. 

He walks softly across the apartment, into the bathroom, where he doesn't quite shut the door, unzips his jeans, is so close to his first simple goal. Then he looks up. 

There, hanging at eye level on the wall, is the wooden likeness of the crucified Christ. 

He sees red. 

" _Goddammit, Mac! _" Dennis shouts, and _there's no way Mac didn't hear that_ , but no one answers him. __

Standing there staring at the cross, he's thinking _is it so much to ask to piss in peace?_ The face of Jesus stares back at him smugly as if to say _Yes, Dennis. It is._

_Fuck this guy._ Dennis is sick of seeing his stupid face, sick of hearing his holy word. Sick of his invisible hand holding the short leash of Mac's faith and devotion. _Devotion that is being completely wasted,_ Dennis thinks, annoyed. _A man of Mac’s passions should be put to better use than this._

He shakes his head as he zips his jeans again wondering _what the fuck did Jesus Christ ever really have that Dennis Reynolds doesn't?_ He certainly wasn’t better looking. The real guy was five feet tall and probably never showered in his life- _which Mac could have from Charlie if he really wanted it-_ and even the impostor hanging on Mac’s wall, _that beefcake white Jesus that he loves so much_ , can’t hold a candle to Dennis’s elegant and refined beauty. 

_This bastard,_ Dennis thinks, glaring at the tiny wooden god on his bathroom wall, _is ruining my life_. Who says He has anything at all that Dennis doesn’t? Why should He have the monopoly on Mac's devotion? Why should Mac waste his time when Dennis can give him the all glory of god in living colour? 

And besides, right here, right now, isn't Dennis is the one with all the power? 

Just to prove the point, he grabs the little wooden god, on his little wooden cross and send it flying across the apartment. As it crashes to the floor by the door to Mac's room, one of the messiah’s little wooden arms snaps at the shoulder. Dennis takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders, and smiles. _Better_ , he says to himself, though he feels hot all over. 

He won't stand for this anymore. Clearly humouring Mac isn't doing either of them any good. Mac's faith is not unshakeable- maybe what he needs, is another God. Maybe, with the right target and just enough force, his devotion could be redirected. He can see it. _Dennis the illustrious prince, Dennis the heavenly master._

A deep breath. Yes, he can see it. 

Calmly, he calls out " _Mac?_ " 

Very slowly Mac opens his door, looking braced for impact. 

Dennis steps out of the bathroom, fixing Mac with the most subdued expression he can manage. Mac steps from his room into the kitchen, and right on to the broken body of his saviour. 

"Jesus," he says, lifting his foot, squinting at the thing on the floor. Then, with a sharp gasp " _Jesus!_ Oh my god, what happened to Him?" Reaching down to collect Him, he gasps again “His arm is broken!” 

“Oh,” says Dennis, and shrugs without an ounce of conviction. “It fell?” 

“He was hanging in the bathroom!" Mac says. 

" _I know_. Above the toilet, though? I mean _really,_ Mac?" 

"Aha!" Mac snaps, pointing an accusatory finger. "You threw him!" 

Dennis closes his lips and inhales deep through his nose. "It's not like you don't have ten more," He says, shaking his head very slightly. "I dont see why you need them anyway." 

Mac rolls his eyes, then looks dutifully upwards. "Forgive him father for he knows not what he does," he says with a sigh. "Why do I _need_ them? It's the image of our lord and saviour, bro. They're to remind us how He died for us. And how He’s _always_ watching," 

"Right," says Dennis, with a hard smile. “Very weird.” 

He has to make his move before he gets pissed off again. 

As Mac examines the splintered wood, Dennis crosses the room slowly, until they are close enough to touch. He wraps a hand loosely around Mac’s as he holds the broken idol, and with his other hand Dennis softly pries it away from him to observe the damage he's done. 

"I wonder," he says, very low, very close to Mac's ear, "why God didn't protect it." Mac feels a thrill up his spine. Christs' broken arm is still clutched between his fingers. He pulls away from Dennis, feeling suddenly very exposed. 

"God doesn't stop things from happening," He explains. "He just does all the smiting and forgiving and- and shit, afterwards. To make sure everyone gets what they deserve." 

"Mmmhm," Dennis nods vacantly. He raises his eyes to meet Mac's before saying "And you want someone else to decide what you deserve?" 

Mac blinks at him, shaking his head slightly. "No," Mac says weakly "That's not-" 

"You want someone who knows what's best for you," Dennis cuts in, not a question this time. Mac spins the severed arm, cold between his fingertips, thinks it feels like a bullet, or a nail, or a prayer- _this will tear you apart if you let it._

Dennis shifts his weight to the foot nearest to Mac, then takes another slow step towards him. His hand wanders slow up Mac's back to rest on his shoulder. He holds the broken idol still, staring at it expressionless. Mac can feel him breathing. 

Tentatively, Mac meets Dennis' hand with the missing piece, pressing the arm back into it's socket. In that moment there is nothing he wants more than to see the wood sew itself back together. He can see it in his head, perfectly: _the light shines out from the crack, a hot white light, almost too bright to look at. It flares until it fills the room, then just dissolves into the newly healed wood. The saviour staring up a them intact from where he sits between their hands._

Mac would say _look! look, that's what god looks like! right there!_ and Dennis would have to concede. It doesn't heal, of course. It just stays broken, the short end of it in Mac's hand reminding him that he's already lost 

Without warning Dennis lets his fingers go limp. Slowly the crucifix slips away from his open palm, then all at once it falls to the floor. Mac stares down at it, looking disappointed. Dennis puts his empty hand on Mac's bicep. 

"I know what you need," Dennis says firmly. "I know what you deserve." 

It hangs in the air, Dennis savouring the anticipation. Finally he says, " _I could show you real Godliness._ " 

Mac stares at him for a long moment before answering. 

"Dennis... You don't know shit about God.” 

It takes a long time to say, each word coming slow and painful, like a hook tearing from the open mouth of a fish. That’s how Mac feels, stupid and suffocated, hung up on a wire as Dennis’s prized catch. and to what end? Will he be eaten whole, or thrown bleeding back into the current to fend for himself, half murdered by a man who just wanted to see if he could. 

“God?” says Dennis, like it’s a punchline he doesn’t understand. God? he says, but that’s the whole joke. "If it’s god that you want…” he raises his open palms slowly as he speaks. “ _Mac_. I can give you god. If you want forgiveness I can give it. If you want a vengeful god, I can tear your world asunder. If you want an altar to bleed yourself dry on…” He smiles, teeth hidden. “I would offer myself up for your pleasure.” 

Mac's mouth has gone dry all of a sudden. He wants to say okay. He wants to say amen. He wants to say _yours is the kingdom, Dennis, and the power, and the glory._ He does not say anything at all. 

“Let me ask you something about God,” Dennis presses on, speaking very slowly, nothing readable behind the red rings of his eyes. “When did God last talk to you, Mac? And what did he say? Did he call you his child? Tell you that all is forgiven? Did he say anything at all?” 

“God works-” Mac starts, but there’s a hitch in his throat, a crack in his voice. Dennis doesn’t betray a trace of his usual annoyance or smugness. Doesn’t betray anything at all. A deep breath and Mac delivers his line like a cheap understudy, all memory and no conviction. Dennis is already nodding like he knows the answer too. 

“God works in mysterious ways,” Mac says. 

“So his silence is mysterious?” Dennis muses. “And it's _safe_ , isn't it? But what about you? What do you say when you speak to God?” 

Mac thinks it’s just part of the monologue at first, doesn’t realise that Dennis wants an answer until he says Well? Stilted, Mac begins, “I mean, I-I usually just, ask for forgiveness- for my sins and for-” 

“And are you honest?” Dennis cuts him off again. “Are you ashamed? Does he tell you how to make it all go away?” 

“It's not about honesty, Dennis, it's- it's about- God knows _everything_ , okay? I don't have to-" 

“He knows _everything,_ " Dennis repeats. "And he forgives you anyway?" 

“ _Yes,_ ” Mac says, exasperated. 

“But you keep going back. You repeat the same sins. Why should God keep listening when you never learn?" 

"I _try_ to follow the word of god...." Mac begins, but- 

"But you can't quite do it, can you? Why is that Mac? Why can't you fully embrace God?" 

Mac is staring wide eyed at Dennis who's bleeding feral energy from every pore. Feeling lost at sea he says, barely above a whisper, "What are you talking about?" 

"I think you need something new to worship, Mac." 

Again, Dennis says " _Let me show you._ " 

Silence floods into every open space. 

Somewhere in the world a light is turning green. Somewhere in the world a foot is slamming on a brake. Dennis exhales. Mac inhales. The universe holds its breath. 

Then Mac thinks _forgive_ me and he gives up. 

Dennis slams against the door with all Mac's weight suddenly pressed against him. The back of his head bounces hard off the wood and his chest is flattened between it and Mac, crushing the air clean out of his lungs. Dennis makes a little wheezing sound, but Mac doesn't stop kissing him, and he gasps against Mac's mouth but he won't stop kissing him. He won't give him any time to right his breathing, just keeps kissing and clawing at the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of hair to hold him in place with. 

Dazed, Dennis hasn't moved his hands yet. Now, he grabs at Mac's shoulders, a firm touch, sliding down his arms and then back up again to Mac's hand. He thinks he might disentangle it from his hair- maybe give himself a chance to free his mouth long enough to say something clever, something sexy- but when Dennis tugs at his wrist Mac makes a muffled sound into his mouth and sucks hard on his bottom lip, pulling back just enough for Dennis to manage a gasp. 

Mac is a wet kisser with no real artistry to his technique, but he has passion in spades. There's a warmth blooming in the middle of Dennis' chest, a humming just underneath his skin, an electric thrill shooting up through his spine. It might be the slow suffocation, the thrill of success or just the sheer eroticism of it all, but it's consuming. Dennis let's himself grow lightheaded under the hot crush of the kiss. 

Mac finally abandons his mouth, kissing his neck, hand trailing down his arm, finding his waist, sneaking inside his shirt. _Like he knows exactly what hes doing._ Mac pulls Dennis's shirt up over his head, Dennis twisting against the fabric of his sweater, trying to pull out of it without pulling away from Mac. When it comes off it hits the floor with almost no sound. Then Mac`s hands are on his hips, one of them sliding under the waistband of his jeans, his briefs. It stay there, just touching his skin, not going anywhere. The other one trails along his belt to the buckle. When his fingers linger there Dennis moves to unbuckle it himself, but Mac pushes his hands away. Dennis growls, leans his head on Mac's shoulder, letting him play with it, but _he takes forever_. 

"Just let me get it," Dennis huffs. 

"No," Mac says, and he grins. "No. There`s something wrong with your belt dude." He gives a hard pull at the end of it and Dennis`s hips pull forward with it bit. enough that he has to put a hand on Mac`s arm to steady himself. He can feel Mac flexing under his touch. 

Mac wraps all four fingers around the back of the buckle, pulling Dennis forward again by the belt, just a fraction- just enough that he Dennis tightens his grip on Mac's arm- then he pulls the buckle free and the belt off in one motion. 

When Dennis does not seem impressed Mac says. `You know you can like, grab me and stuff if you want. I`m really strong, I can take it." 

Dennis scoffs but he does it, grabbing Mac high on his arm, grabbing hard. Mac kisses him again, Dennis digs his nail in, dragging them across his skin, and Mac moans as he kisses Dennis's jaw. He does it again with one hand, he puts his other hand on Mac's shoulder, gradually puts some weight into it. He pushes down until Mac starts to follow the motion of his hand, dragging his open mouth down Dennis's chest. 

They've hardly done anything and Dennis is sweating hard already, red flush beginning on the apple of his cheek and spreading across his face. Mac unzips his jeans. Dennis goes slack, the back of his head dropping back against the door again. He can picture how he must look right now- how Mac can see every vein, every tendon, every inch of muscle and sinew and tight skin. _Like Jesus on the cross._

His dick pops free, hard and pink and ready but Mac just stares at it, his breath hot against it. Mac feels a little nervous. Dennis looks down and him he looks back up at Dennis like he's searching for something. Approval maybe? _Absolution?_ Dennis smiles at him, nods, holds his eyes as Mac licks his lips and takes the head of Dennis's cock into his mouth. The act has never looked so salacious. 

Dennis keeps looking down at him makes a low almost humming sound at the back of his throat. His mouth so hot and wet. One hand around the bottom of Dennis's dick, the other gripping firmly at the outside of his thigh- he takes as much as he can. Mac _wants_ so badly to be good at this. More than once it hits the back of his throat and he makes a choking sound that sends a devious thrill through Dennis. When it happens, Dennis curls his fingers into Mac's hair. He can only manage it so many times before he pulls off, coughing. 

When he stops coughing he clears his throat, looks at Dennis again with those nervous eyes. 

"Do you like that?" Mac says, voice a little strained. He wants to sound sexy, but he sounds nervous and _gay_. It freaks him out, but he feels calmer when Dennis puts his hand on the back of his head. He curls his fingers into the hair but doesn't pull it. "Yeah," he says, jutting his hips a little. "Yeah, keep going." 

He starts again with his hand, but he doesn't know where to go without the spontaneity of before. his brain is coming back to him, screaming. He looks away from Dennis altogether and employs his other hand instead, stroking him halfheartedly, while Dennis writhes into it. 

Then his eyes catch on the crucifix on the floor- the eyes of Christ staring up at him in silent judgement. He closes his eyes but he still feels watched, and he's increasingly unsure if he can do this, however much _wants_ it. 

Mac looks at Dennis, looks at his dick. He starts again with a hesitant lick, puts his mouth over just the tip of it, looks up at Dennis and wants him to say something forgiving, wishes he really could absolve him of sin. 

Meanwhile, Dennis writhes. Eyes closed, his teeth click shut hard. " _Mac,_ " he says as evenly as he can, wanting to say he hasn’t suffered all these years for just a sloppy hand job, but then Mac's hands stop moving altogether. Dennis has the sudden and jarring realisation that _Mac has changed his mind._ He's about to say _I can't do this. I'm not gay._

So it falls to Dennis to do his godly duty, to decide what is best for Mac. 

_So he says "Fuck me."_

He puts both hands on Mac's face as he leans down to kiss him, breathing into his mouth _fuck me, Mac_. Pulls him headfirst back onto his feet and whispers _you want to fuck me, don't you?_

It's enough. Dennis undermines his self control, as always. _Yes,_ Mac does want to fuck him. _More than anything,_ and he can beg forgiveness for it later. Dennis is everywhere, pressed to his chest and under his hands, all across his field of vision and all inside his mouth, under his skin, inside his head, spreading like fog over every thought. Mac just keeps saying _yeah. ok, yeah._

Dennis reaches one hand back to open the door behind him. As the door opens in, he stumbles back. The bed is only a few steps back from the door and he could probably have caught himself, but Mac gets both arms around his waist before he can really begin to fall. Mac feels his confidence inflated here, in his own room, with Dennis pressed against, and safe underneath him. Dennis feels a little thrill as Mac grabs at him smirking against his mouth. Until they do fall, both of them, onto the bed and all tangled up in each other. 

Dennis is crushed under Mac's weight again, but it's not enough. He pulls at Mac's jeans and they have to disentangle themselves to get either of their pants off. Mac rolls off of Dennis and all but rips all his clothes off. 

When they press together again, skin to skin, Mac is insatiable, starved, so needy for this wonderful thing he keeps himself deprived of. Dennis, on the receiving end of all of it all, has never felt more adored. 

Mac is kissing him again, and touching every inch of him. Dennis's hands are on his back, clawing, and Mac's jamming one leg up into the back of Dennis’s knee, forcing a space for himself between his legs. 

Dennis gasps. "You have lube?" he asks. 

Mac blinks at him, so lost in the moment he hardly heard it, but then Dennis is staring at him, raising his eyebrows impatiently. 

"Oh," Mac says " _Yeah. Yeah, of course. _"__

Dennis tilts his head back to watch Mac reach for it, the almost full tube of lubricant on the shelf above his bed- there beside his bible, his ceramic Christ, and all his religious clutter. Dennis wishes then that they were in his room- Mac's is the epicentre of all the religious shit in the apartment. It makes him uneasy, like God is somehow involved in this too. This is _his_ victory, and Mac is _his_ convert. He'd like to reach up and knock the little statuette sideways, break his holy ceramic head open. He's tired of seeing him and tired of being seen by him. He's everywhere at once in here, unless Dennis is looking directly at Mac. _At least it's a nice view._

Dennis watches Mac, poised between his legs, skin flushed, hair stuck in every direction, a little too soft to be handsome, but almost there. _Almost glowing._

Dennis parts his legs in invitation. "Use your fingers first," he says. 

"I know that," Mac says, too quickly. "I know what I'm doing." 

Dennis bites his lip around a grin. "Do you?" 

Pressing the tip of his forefinger in without warning. Mac says "Yeah, I do." 

Dennis throws his head back, with a sharp gasp. Mac works his finger around but for all his enthusiasm it doesn't really feel like Mac knows what he's doing. 

"Ok," Dennis says, impatient and needy. "Ok, just- _fuck me._ " 

Mac doens't need to be told twice. 

Mac slicks his dick a second time and nudges forward on the bed, leaning down to kiss Dennis on the mouth again, Surprising him. Then he leans back only enough to look down. He presses the tip of his dick to Dennis's hole and before it's even in Mac thinks he might finish right now. Barely inside, he stops, breathing hard, overwhelmed. 

" _Jesus Christ,_ " he moans. 

And for just a second, Dennis feels another flare of jealousy. He grabs at Mac's ass and presses up to him, forcing him deeper in. It _hurts_. He bites at Mac's shoulder, and Mac's head fall forward/. 

When he comes up for air Dennis whispers "Say _my_ name." 

Mac does, he moans _Dennis_ as he pushes his dick all the way in and Dennis makes that little shrill noise again. It sounds like he's in pain. 

"Dennis?" Mac says, almost breathless. Dennis sighs, a shaky sound. "Does it hurt?" Mac asks, with such innocence, such sincere concern that Dennis feels something go tight at the center of his chest, a new wave of heat welling up in him. He looks at Mac through his fluttering lashes and for a second he feels like saying something profoundly sentimental. 

All he ends up saying is "It's fine. Go ahead." 

Mac moves slowly at first, rocking into him. It's a good pace for Dennis, who makes the smallest, intermittent gasps and moaning sounds. When the pace picks up he gasps on every thrust, again and again as the bed rocks into the wall. The hard stretch gets easier, but having Mac inside of him is more intense than he imagined it. Dennis feels anchored in his body, feels present and alive with Mac grabbing his face, his hair. Mac's open mouth on his forehead, on his face, breathing _Dennis- Dennis-_

Mac keeps saying his name with increasing urgency and Dennis keeps looking at Mac, thinking this is what he wanted. _This is the best kind sex-_ raw and emotional banging. Dennis as the single focus of all Mac's repressed desire. Dennis cast as the sole answer to all of Mac's problems. Dennis as both God and messiah, his body made a willing sacrifice for the worshipful love he should never have been denied. _Isn't this heavenly_ , he wants to say, but all that makes it out is a low moan. 

Somewhere in the midst of it their eyes find each other. There's a weird moment of clarity. Mac slow his movements as he looks into those crystal blue eyes and sees Dennis, looking back up at him, half dazed. Mac can't help it, he smiles, a little awkwardly, and says, "Hey, Dennis." He laughs very quietly when he hears himself, just a soft chuckle against Dennis's neck. 

Dennis can't help it either, with a breathless little laugh he says "Hey, Mac." 

"You should say that more," Mac says. He starts moving again, pace building faster than before. 

When Dennis moans his name Mac smiles again and he keeps smiling. It's something in the absolute bliss Mac finds in his company that pulls Dennis over the edge. Spilling all over both of them he melts against the mattress, as Mac keeps moving inside him until, all sweaty and filthy and _gay_ , he sees heaven. 

When Mac pulls out and drops on the mattress, laying on his stomach beside Dennis, one arm across Dennis's chest, head on his shoulder. He tries to slip out from under Mac, but there's no room to roll away without falling off the bed and Mac's head resting firmly on his shoulder. So he gives up, curling his arms to lay his hand on Mac's head, twisting his fingers into his hair. 

Mac could stay there forever with his eyes closed, Dennis' skin warm against his own. He feels strangely calm, though he can see panic lingering on the horizon, just waiting to catch him alone. He wonders if Dennis is somehow keeping it at bay. He just lays there, thinking about everything that Dennis said. 

After what feels like a long time, he speaks, eyes closed, half muffled by Dennis’s shoulder. “I know you think you’re like a God or something," he says. "But it’s not the same.” It’s easier like this- staring at the back of his eyelids pretending neither God nor Dennis can see his sins. 

“I'm the only god you need.” Dennis says, and it shouldn't make Mac feel any better, but for a moment at least, it does. As long as that lasts, Mac will stay right here.

**Author's Note:**

> you can absolutely see where i finally gave up lmao im sorry. 
> 
> The verse Mac's reading at the start is Romans 14 (The Weak and the Strong), and I don't profess to understand it any better than either of them. The prayer card was a real one I found on google lmao. According to wikipedia St. Raphael is the patron saint of (among many other things), both lovers and mental illness, so that's why I chose that. Was Mac trying to to be that deep? you can decide
> 
> anyway, comments/feedback are beyond welcome & not to selfpromo but i'm always looking for friends in this fandom on tumblr @goldendennis.


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